Whispers In The Shadows

1. Decision

The bright rays cascading through the barricades of gardens and trees revealed the untouched beauty of Mother Nature. A cool breeze danced through the air, accompanied by the sweet chirping of birds, celebrating their existence. The atmosphere was rich with the delightful fragrance of blooming flowers—one of the many treasures of spring. He reveled in the aroma and the warmth that the season brought. As he gazed up at the sky, a smile crept onto his lips, as memories of someone special drifted into his mind.

He took a sip of his coffee, savoring the moment, when suddenly, an unpleasant voice broke through the tranquility. A woman in her mid-sixties approached, her words tumbling out in a stream of gibberish. He sighed, a wave of disappointment washing over him. He knew exactly what was coming next.

Daya adored his grandmother, and he had always complied with her whims, even when they often came wrapped in outdated beliefs and demands. Here we go again, he thought, bracing himself for another round of her well-intentioned but tiresome lectures. Yet, despite the frustration, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of affection for her. After all, her love was as constant as the changing seasons, even if her ideas felt like remnants of a bygone era.

Her tears are his greatest weakness; he can't bear to see her in pain or sadness. Yet, deep within, he yearns to free himself from her narrow-minded thinking that confines her spirit.

She embodies the sentimental inscriptions of an ignorant conservative, utterly unaware of the profound essence of humanity that lies beyond her sheltered existence.

His grandmother, a master of weaving intricate theories, sought to explain the mysteries of life, crafting narratives to veil their fear of the unknown. In her eyes, the world was a tapestry of familiar patterns, each thread carefully placed to maintain the comfort of certainty.

"Daya," she began, her voice steady yet gentle, "ab bas bohot hua... Tum shaadi kab karoge? Mere marne se pehle to meri dadi banne ki ye khwaish puri karoge, na?" The weight of her words hung in the air, a plea wrapped in affection.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, a familiar frustration bubbling inside him. "Dadi, please... Aap kya bol rahi hain? Ek hi topic pe kitni baar baat karenge hum?" It was a conversation they had revisited countless times, each time feeling more like a loop he couldn’t escape.

"Jab tak tumhe humari baat nahi samajh aa jati, tab tak to baat karni padegi," she replied, her tone firm but not unkind. "Tumhe apni zindagi ki taraf dhyan dena hoga."

Daya's heart sank. "Dadi, aap jaanti hain na, mai ye nahi kar sakta. I can't forget her... Uski yaadon se door jaana mere liye mushkil hai." The memories flooded back, vivid and painful, each one a reminder of what he had lost.

Dadi's expression softened, but her resolve remained. "Aur apni jimmedari bhool sakte ho? Kya mere bate tumhare liye itni bhi ahmiyat nahi rakhti?" Her voice trembled slightly, a hint of hurt creeping in.

"Nahi, Dadi. Aisi baat nhi hai," he reassured her, his voice earnest. "Lekin, mere dil mein sirf vo hai, aur uski jagah mai kabhi kisi aur ko nhi de sakta."

"Samajhti hoon, beta," she said, her gaze steady. "Lekin zindagi aage badhti hai, aur tumhe bhi aage badhna hoga. Khud ke liye na sahi uski khushi ke liye. Vo jaha bhi hogi tumhe is haal me dekhke bilkul bhi khush nhi hogi"

He nodded slowly, the weight of her words settling in. "Aapki baat sahi hai, Dadi. Lekin mai kisi aur se shaadi-"

"Bacche ke liye shaadi ki kya jarurat."

Shock flickered across his face. "Dadi, you can't be serious—"

She cut him off, her voice steady. "If not marriage, then consider surrogacy."